Stage/Theatre

What: Withrow Park
Where: Tarragon Theatre
When: Now, until Sun., Dec. 10
Highlight: Ken MacDonald’s striking set
Rating: NNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: World-premiere comedy sports intriguing design and clear direction.

MORRIS PANYCH’S new play Withrow Park, on now at Tarragon Theatre, see-saws between two very different tones.

The show starts out as an endearingly dusty comedy. Sisters Marion (Corrine Koslo) and Janet (Nancy Palk) occupy a pleasant, old-fashioned abode across from Withrow Park in Toronto’s east end. They banter about nothingness to pass the uneventful days. Along with them lives Arthur (Benedict Campbell), Janet’s moody ex-husband. The trio (all in their 60s, it’s implied) get most of their kicks from tracking the park’s happenings through the house’s wide window.

A knock at the door complicates matters. Simon (Johnathan Sousa), a younger man new to the neighbourhood, introduces himself. He seems nice enough — but there’s something off, his posture too perfect and smile too sad. As he sits in a patterned armchair wearing a faded Nirvana tee, he looks like a figure from another world: why is he here?

In a move both enticing and frustrating, we never really find out. Direct address narration offers a few hints — and a scene involving partial nudity implies a potential link between Simon’s appearance and Arthur’s ongoing quest to figure out his sexuality — but Panych never offers anything concrete.

Jackie Maxwell’s direction deepens this mystery through injections of the surreal. Though lighting designer Kimberly Purtell keeps the play’s comic world bright and realistic, Simon’s arrival brings abstraction into the mix. During monologues and transitions, blues flood through set designer Ken MacDonald’s misty windows, and on-stage lighting sources like wall lamps and chandeliers take precedence, enveloping the space in frosty shadows.

But this intriguing vibe only arrives in short bursts. The comic and ominous elements of Withrow Park never fully converge — though the play simmers, it doesn’t boil over.

The exception is MacDonald’s striking set, which blends the foreboding world of the park with the safety of the house. Branches and thorns brush up against the window, making the outside seem more like a jungle than an avenue. A few trees even poke through the glass and invade the space; their jagged leaves hang over the action unacknowledged.

At the end of Withrow Park’s brisk runtime (1 hour, 45 minutes with an intermission), not much has happened. This is partially the point. During the play’s melancholic final minutes, Janet and Marion look out at the sun setting over the park. Unchanged by their encounter with Simon, they cry for no reason as the deathly darkness descends.